


Ill Testimony

by Oshii



Series: I Have That Effect on Women ;) Lucifer H/C Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e01 They're Back Aren't They?, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Heartburn, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Vomiting, emeto, stress puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22161673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshii/pseuds/Oshii
Summary: Missing scene/ep coda from Lucifer season 3 episode 1, tying sort of into episode 2.Lieutenant Marcus Pierce isn't shy about showing his disdain for Detective Espinoza right off the bat, but Dan - having put up with enough ridicule from Lucifer and done dealing with his guilt from Palmetto - decides enough is enough, and goes to Pierce's office to set the record straight. Because it's really starting to make him sick. Upset stomach, sick!Dan, humiliated!Dan, mildly concerned!Pierce, emeto, light H/C.
Series: I Have That Effect on Women ;) Lucifer H/C Prompt Fills [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1505822
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Ill Testimony

**Author's Note:**

> casimania asked
> 
> Heya! This is probably more crack than rarepair but I was thinking sick!Dan with Pierce maybe? He has a very low opinion of Dan from the start and Dan felt Lucifer also humiliated him in front of Pierce on their first case together. What could happen worse? Having to stay together overtime at the precint for paperwork while Dan's sick. He doesn't want to leave and give Pierce more reasons to think he's a shit Detective, but of course his nausea worsens while they're looking over the same files.
> 
> Originally posted Jan 6, 2020.  
> Link: https://oshii.tumblr.com/post/190110414494/heya-this-is-probably-more-crack-than-rarepair

_Aren’t you that corrupt cop who got off easy?_

_Excuse me?_

Dan pursed his lips, willing the encounter to stop replaying. It was making him feel even shittier.

The pen between his fingers twitched, and a black ink line scratched eccentrically though his notes. Heartburn seared a fiery streak up the back of his throat; he reached for the bottle of Tums and popped a few more, chewing distastefully. He’d always hated the chalky texture.

 _No, excuse_ me.

The lieutenant had given him that scornful fucking sideye – so full of disdain, not even trying to hide the contempt – and just walked away, blatantly ignoring the handshake. Pissing all over Dan’s boots. His mouth pressed together harder, forming a thin line of smoldering anger, fresh with hot humiliation. Where the hell did this Marcus Pierce get off, talking to him that way? Like the guy even knew Dan, or Malcolm, or what really happened at Palmetto three years ago. The actual lowdown, not just what got put on record to close the case with a tidy ending.

Dan sighed, defeated, frustrated, and overwhelmingly exhausted. He threw the pen down and leaned back, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face. The backwards tilt of his chair didn’t help to settle his increasingly upset stomach. Fucking Lucifer. Guy had to go and blow it, as usual. Now Pierce was gonna hate him even more than he already did, and Dan hadn’t even done anything wrong.

“Esperanza!”

The front wheels of Dan’s chair skidded as he abruptly sat up in the presence of Pierce, who’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere, lithe despite his bulk. “Lieutenant, I was—”

“Sleeping on the job?” Pierce inclined his chin toward his disheveled hair and disorganized notes.

Dan sat up straighter, hastily tidying his paperwork, retrieving his fallen pen. “No, no sir, I uh. Just hit a dead end, is all. Working on it, I swear.”

“I hate dead ends,” Pierce grumbled, and Dan was momentarily taken aback by the sudden solidarity. “Well, since your civilian consultant got himself kidnapped in your place, the least you could do is stay awake long enough to finish this paperwork.”

He turned and walked away before Dan could mutter a “yes, sir,” in response, so instead Dan simply watched him go, mouth hardening and pulse quickening with mounting adrenaline. You know what? _Fuck_ this dude, sang his inner monologue. Right now, Dan didn’t care about rank – he was sick and tired of feeling humiliated and small by his peers. Yeah, he’d fucked up at Palmetto, and he’d let himself be fooled into camaraderie by Malcolm – _Malcolm_ was the corrupt cop, not him. He was gullible, maybe, but he felt redeemed for his actions three years ago. He wasn’t inherently bad, not even close. He was a good detective and a great dad, endearingly dorky, a good listener. Not corrupt.

 _Just a douche_ , purred Lucifer’s voice in his head, unbidden, and that was the last straw.

Dan slammed his palms on his desk – sending that pen flying again – and pushed himself to his feet, desk chair rolling and head momentarily swimming with a sudden surge of dizziness. His heart pounded in the aftermath, and bile crawled up the back of his throat, threatening an abrupt appearance. He swallowed back his gorge and sniffed, fists clenching in determination, as he headed toward Pierce’s office.

The door thrust open a little too easily (damn, well-oiled, he thought) and Dan stumbled a little upon his forced entry, but quickly righted himself and continued his storm right up to Pierce’s desk. “Lieutenant, I have something to say,” he proclaimed, clearing his throat.

Pierce raised a brow, pausing in the middle of scribbling some notes of his own. “I gathered. Make it quick, Esperanza. I got shit to do.”

Dan fumed. “It’s _Espinoza_ , and I’m—”

Abruptly, he swallowed, raising a fist to his mouth as regurgitation threatened. Both Pierce’s eyebrows raised, and he put down his pen, full attention gained.

“Espinoza. You puke on this carpet, and you’re fired before the dripping stops.”

Dan wrestled back control, sniffing and drawing himself up to his full five foot nine. “Look, Lieutenant, I’m not a bad cop. Or a bad guy. Palmetto was…” he trailed off, both searching for words and fighting back nausea. Man, what had gotten into him? “I was trying to protect Chloe.”

Pierce actually gave a little derisive huff at that. “Decker doesn’t strike me as the type to need protecting.” He sat up a little straighter, expression wary. “You, on the other hand, strike me as someone about to lose their lunch all over my carpet. Trash can’s right there if you need it.”

Dan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands resting on his hips. “I’m fine.” He blew out a breath and continued. “Whatever you’ve heard, or—or read, about the Palmetto case, it…I had my reasons for shooting the sonofabitch. Malcolm Graham was the corrupt cop. I saw him reach for his weapon, and I ju—” His throat closed off with a sudden gag. Pierce rose to his feet, and Dan stubbornly continued, breathing harshly. “I just—I couldn’t let him—”

About the time Pierce uttered a frantic “ _Espinoza_ ”, Dan was already lurching for the proffered trash can by the desk, unable to stop the wrenching flood of stomach acid, settling only for hasty aiming. _God_ , that burned, bile scorching his throat and nasal passages as it dripped from his nose and mouth. He panted harshly in the aftermath, head and heart pounding in tandem rhythm, and immediately his stomach heaved again, this time rougher because it was mostly empty.

“Jesus Christ,” Pierce uttered in revulsion, and…was that a note of gruff sympathy in his voice?

Holy shit, was that a hand clapping Dan’s back in solidarity as he coughed and choked into the can?

“I’m…” Dan tried, gasping for breath, tears streaming. He spat and tried again. “God, I’m sorry…”

Awesome. What a cherry on top of the shit sundae that was his day. He was definitely fired now, regardless of his own character testimony. Digestive pyrotechnics in front of the Lieutenant, in his office, in his fucking trash can…wow. Way to go, Daniel. A-fucking-plus. What a _pendejo_.

“Save it,” came Pierce’s reply, and, yeah, that _was_ gruff sympathy lacing his tone. “You’re obviously pretty worked up about the whole thing. You’ve had a rough day.” And then this happened: “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you.”

If Dan had anything left in his stomach, he would have vomited from sheer shock after that confession. Instead, he blinked several times, both in an attempt to clear his vision and to comprehend what the Lieutenant had just told him. Marcus Hardass Fucking Pierce had just _apologized_? To _him_? He spat into the trash and straightened up, reaching for a tissue from the box on Pierce’s desk, blowing his nose and wiping his chin clean before grabbing the can and standing upright, cheeks flaming. With as much dignity as he could muster, he glanced up at Pierce, reeling from the genuine concern in his blue eyes. “I’ll just…take this and get you a clean one, sir,” he said, voice rough. “Sorry, again.”

“Espinoza,” Pierce called to his retreating back, and Dan half-turned to face him, managing to catch the small container of Altoids Pierce had tossed at him. “Take these, too. And go home. The paperwork can wait.” He paused for a beat of consideration. “I’ll put Lucifer on it, since he’s the one who compromised the sting operation this afternoon. Not your fault, Detective.”

Dan, utterly spent and shaking with exhaustion and sickness and humiliation, coming down from the high of his adrenaline-fueled confrontation and from his ill exertions, actually shuddered with a small helpless little chuckle that ended in a couple fresh tears. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

“You can keep that trash can, too.”

The chuckle relaxed a little, more real now. “Sure thing, sir.”


End file.
